


Hype

by ArianShep



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28327764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianShep/pseuds/ArianShep
Summary: Donna gets a job offer she really shouldn't refuse, writes herself a damn good proposal, and ignores everything.Basically just another Tuesday.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Hype

Josh Lyman, drunken fool.

Wait, that was redundant. Josh Lyman, drunken. Fool, implied.

Three beers later, the Deputy Chief of Staff was no closer to figuring out how to address Donna's job offer than he had been an hour prior.

And it was late. Too late to come up with anything seriously compelling now.

If he'd handled it better from the first, he wouldn't be here. Huh. That was perilously close to an admission that his entire Donna-influenced existence could have been handled better. It followed.

But really, how could he take her seriously when she'd either failed to leave or come back every time?

And how could he face telling her that Amy Gardner was not her problem? Or rather that any time she wanted Amy Gardner to not be a problem, all she had to do was crook a finger at him?

He was so whipped. He'd do anything in his power to keep her, and he knew it.

Now this.

And as Josh Lyman slid his nearly finished third beer down onto the bar in front of him, he knocked the stack of index cards awry, watched them flutter unconcernedly to the floor.

Damn.

~*~*~

"Donna!"

Silence.

" _DONNA_!"

More silence. He actually exited his office, looked around.

"Donna?"

No sign of his lanky blonde assistant. It was late, yes, but there was this junk left to address, including several letters to write, and she'd evidently left for the night without a word.

OK, so being the one sent in to placate that reporter's wife - to befriend and comfort her, to bond within seconds the way only Donna could - was never easy on her. She'd looked...well...stricken, was the only word he could use, after CJ found out he'd been killed.

But to leave without a word? That just wasn't like her.

He began rifling her desk, looking for the information he needed, the folder she should have been there to place into his hand. He was close to becoming seriously pissed - both at her not being there, and at his own ineptitude at being unable to survive more than fifteen minutes without her - when the index cards shifted out from under a pile.

They wouldn't normally have even caught his eye, let alone held his attention; Donna had been using the damn things forever. Any truly important presentation got broken down into its components, and transcribed onto these damned annoying little bits of cardboard.

But this stack caught his eye.

This stack held his attention.

This stack's top card had skittered to the very edge of her desk, and read:

"Hype: Neither Here Nor There. A short treatise on why I should consider the alternatives before I'm suddenly 30"

Given the fact that his nearly-indispensible secretary had been offered another job about an hour ago, what employer wouldn't rifle that stack of cards?

The second read:

"Check business plan, revenue sources, bonuses, and time off. Amy."

This puzzled him enough to necessitate a reading of the third card.

"Calculate new hourly rate for comparison. Compare benefits packages."

Well, that made sense. Also made his stomach sink a bit further.

"Estimate probables: Longevity of either job. _**AMY**_."

What the _hell_?

The fifth card explained it, and as he read he felt himself falling into Donna's chair.

"Estimate value of not having to watch J date A. Gardner. Add."

Something stuck in his chest.

Donna was thinking about quitting.

 _Seriously_ thinking of quitting.

And part of the reason was Amy.

He probably sat there for a good quarter-hour, chasing dust bunnies in the attic of his brain. 

It had seemed to him that every time he dated, she was behind him all the way. Well, not Mandy, but that was the exception.

Or was it? Did she do a stack of cards each time he started seeing someone new? And what about her? Should he ask her tomorrow to do a stack of cards on the intelligence of choosing to date the lead counsel for an opposition investigation into possible criminal acts by the White House? And - hello - lie to said boyfriend _under oath_ at the first opportunity?!?

And why did the idea that she was still occasionally dating Clifford bother the bejeezus out of him?

 _But_ , he was not allowed to date Amy, or she'd suddenly consider quitting on him again?

No, wait. Be fair. Calm down.

She was offered a job.

He scanned the rest of the cards impatiently to see if there were any details. It seemed she'd gotten serious around card nine; there were actual numbers. Numbers that made him a bit nauseous.

Card twelve made his eyes bug out by stating bluntly:

"Age: 28. Estimate possibility of having children, ever, if continue with J: 41. Estimate probability of ever marrying. Calculate chances of ever being satisfied with anyone as long as always around J."

He was "J".

HE was "J: 41". Oh. My. God.

He re-checked the fifth card. "J".

Scanning ahead, there were no more "J" cards. Until the last, seventeen, which read:

"Estimate impact of not seeing J every day. Calculate size of huge hole in chest not being near J all day. This sucks and is stupid. Stop writing, Donna."

He wanted to laugh. It was something she'd do. But instead he was feeling what she meant by "a huge hole in chest".

No Donna. Well, very little Donna.

It would not be enough Donna.

He swept up the index cards and put them in his pocket, tidied up her desk to erase the evidence of his fumbling.

And went out to get drunk.

~*~*~

"Hel-wo?"

Fuzzy. Sleeping. Traitor.

"Donna, wake up."

"Wha-?" She sounded like she was, possibly, waking up.

"I said, Wake. Up." He tried not to raise his voice, and glanced around the office. Not the place to have this conversation, but who was going to drive him back to his condo? And he was damned if he'd take a cab and then accidentally give the cabbie directions to her place and end up doing the "drunk at her place thing" all over again but this time with written proof in his pocket that she was both in love with him and a traitor.

Well, maybe in love, and maybe a traitor. Whatever.

"I'm awake. What do you want, Josh?"

Ok. What did he want?

"Wait." He heard her sigh a bit suspiciously. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

The first thought was always to deny it, but he should be over that by now. Cause it just wasn't hard to tell, and lying would weaken his position. Amazed that he was thinking this clearly, he found himself saying: "A bit."

"A bit." Same skeptical voice. He could almost see her fishing for her blank index cards to write "Add in value of not having to deal with drunken boss phoning in the middle of the night." He rushed on.

"The thing is..." He paused. What was the thing again? Oh, yeah.

"I don't want you to quit."

Silence. And while he'd heard silence could be golden, with Donna it was almost Never Good.

"Donna?"

"I'm listening." She sounded a bit off. Worried?

Ah. She was worried he'd found the cards. Well, what harm in alleviating that little worry?

"I found the cards."

Long silence. Then "oh" in a small voice, an embarrassed, uncomfortable, 'oops' sort of voice. 

For some reason, it made him twitch in his chair. Maybe it was spoiling for a Donna-fight, and the thrill of having the upper hand was - well - getting out of hand. Still-

"I read them."

Silence. Again. 

The thrill of power was wearing off. 

He'd rather she yelled at him for invading her privacy, so that he could yell at her for leaving early, so that she could yell at him for making her work impossibly long hours, so that he could finally get to what he needed to yell about, which was that it was an incredible offer from what he'd read and that he couldn't possibly match it, but he very much needed her...

To stay.

And that thing about doing whatever he had to, to make her want to stay.

He couldn't forget that part.

"Donna?"

"What?"

"I don't want you to leave."

"I can believe that."

Um, was that pissed? Was it resigned? It sounded a little of both.

"Look, it reads like an incredible offer. Money-wise I can't even come close to matching it, and you know that. And maybe you'd be a fool to turn it down. But-"

It was his turn to fall silent and hers to prompt.

"But? But what, Josh?"

But what indeed. Oh yeah, that "I'd do anything" part of the speech.

"But I really hope you won't."

A pause. "Won't...turn it down?"

"No!" He tried to replay the conversation in his head. "Won't leave. I know that it might be the chance of a lifetime, but I don't want you to leave."

A sigh. She sighed? Well, at least it wasn't a pissed-off-sounding sigh.

Was it?

"Josh, look, you're not sober enough for this. And..." She trailed off, then cleared her throat. "The cards were a joke, Josh. They really weren't meant to be taken seriously. I just - have a lot to think about, and I was trying to- well...trying to not be serious about it for a little while."

Did that sound as lame to her while she said it, as it did to him hearing it? Was she trying to tell him that she really had no problem with Amy?

And if she was now serious about not being serious before, did that mean he couldn't bash Cliff the way he'd been planning?

His head hurt.

"Josh, look - wait - where are you?"

"The office."

He heard her groan and felt a little resentful. She wasn't the one on the way to a hangover, after all.

"Josh, call a cab and go home."

"Don' wanna."

"WHAT?" She spoke a bit too loudly for his comfort and he held the phone away from his ear.

"I said-"

"I _heard_ what you said, Joshua, but now you listen to me. As soon as I hang up on you - which I'm about to do - call a cab and go home. Take a shower and go to sleep. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"But-"

He was suddenly talking to a "brrrrrrrr" tone that confused him. Then it untangled and he realized she _had_ hung up on him.

Huh.

So he called a cab.

And he gathered his things, including the stuff he'd meant to work on that night. And he walked out into the street. And he got into the cab.

And gave the the cabbie Donna's address.

**Author's Note:**

> this ficlet is almost old enough to drink (2002). 
> 
> in addition to working on War Room, i decided to start going back through more of my old stuff and see what i was willing to toss up on the Archive... and what will more than likely continue to slumber in my Documents folder forever.
> 
> i always liked this ficlet. this was the moment in _West Wing_ when i REALLY wanted Donna to just _punt_ Josh Lyman. or, you know, actually be honest with him. but hey - at least they gave us Season 7, so it was no where near as annoying as _ST: Voyager_.


End file.
